No secondhand, worn-out things were ever packed up in the boxes they put together; instead, in odd moments throughout the year, they all had projects a-making that were intended to make those who weren't likely to get anything on Christmas a little happier on Boxing Day.

A trip to the pantry, where I stirred the beer mash fermenting in its tub, squeezed out the curds of the soft cheese a-making, and punched down the slow-rising salt bread, ready to be made into loaves and baked in the morning, when the small Dutch oven built into the side of the hearth would be heated through by the night's low fire.